Sam's Choice
by NoilyPrat
Summary: Sam wants to leave for college. John doesn't want him to go. John's POV. Pre-series. (a couple of bad words)


**Sam's Choice**

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John knew it was coming. Sam wasn't nearly as secretive as he thought. At first it was Stanford this, Stanford that, and then it was secretive looks and sneaking off to his bedroom with papers. No mention of Stanford since that wendigo hunt up in Montana. John was glad to not have to hear it over and over again, but he knew that meant Sam was burying it deep inside, mulling it over. Mulling it over? Hell, Sam had come to a conclusion some time ago. It was just a matter of time before his youngest brought it up to him.

He wearily climbed the two steps, before heavily walking into the rental trailer that Wednesday night, bone tired. Ghouls were no fun, but it was more than just physical. The boys crowded in after him, tripping up the steps, half pushing and shoving each other. Part good-naturedly, part in frustration. However, the way Sam made a beeline for his room, and slammed the door to keep even Dean out, John knew he was running out of time concerning university.

"Bitch!" Dean called to Sam through the locked door. It would take no time at all for Dean to pick it, or even kick it in, but for family relations to remain on a somewhat even keel the boys made it a policy to not intrude if the other one made it clear he wanted to be alone.

"Jerk!" Sam's voice was muffled, but came through clear enough, causing an eye roll response from Dean.

John made his way slowly to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and debated on the beer. Closing the fridge, he instead reached up over the range, wrapping his hand around the neck of the whiskey bottle. After the shout out to Sam, Dean wandered into the kitchen to join John. He glanced at the whiskey, but reached for one of the beers in the fridge. John grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He then shucked his second shirt, throwing it over the back of a kitchen chair, before settling down heavily. _Please, don't let Sam pull his stunt tonight. I'm not ready._

Dean popped the top, and took a swallow, heading for the next kitchen chair. He placed the beer on the table to do exactly what John had done not 30 seconds ago - shucked out of his secondary shirt, throwing it on the back of his chair, and settling down - before grabbing the beer once more. Dean generally followed what John did. It no longer surprised him. It was rather comforting. John swallowed two fingers of whiskey as Dean enjoyed his beer.

By all intents and purposes, just coming home from a regular job, if you discounted the body parts smeared on the shoes and the smell of the burned ghoul in their clothes. Thinking of that, John leaned down to unlace his boots. Dean followed suit with his sneakers, wrinkling his nose. John saw that, and thought about offering Dean the shower first. But with Sam being so prissy, Dean couldn't get to his clean clothes in his room. He wouldn't barge in on Sam unless it was necessary. The smell had been worse, so Dean would endure it. Which meant John could take first shower, unless Sam made an appearance in the next few minutes.

John poured another finger of whiskey, feeling the burn go down, before Sam opened the door to the bedroom. _First shower to Sam, then._ But it was obvious Sam had something else on his mind. Sam nervously shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing his left hand down his clean jeans, as his right hand brought out his duffle from behind him in a defiant gesture.

 _Not tonight, Sam. Not ever._ And just because he could see the defiant look in Sam's eye, John judged he didn't have near enough whiskey inside him; he poured another two fingers worth. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Dean freeze slightly, before he put his beer back down.

"Aw Sam, we don't book out 'til tomorrow."

Sam took his bracing breath, two more steps into the living room towards the kitchen, and gathered his courage. John could see Sam bracing for a battle, even opening his mouth.

"No."

Sam blinked at John. Dean blinked at John. John knocked back his whiskey.

"Dad, you don't even know what I want to say!" _I know much more than you give me credit for, boy._ "At least hear me out."

John slammed the empty glass down on the rickety kitchen table, causing Dean to grab his beer or it would spill out. He raised up slowly to his 6'2" height, which used to intimidate Sam but no more since Sam was now 6'3" himself, and planted his socked feet apart just a bit. It was classic John Winchester-don't-f*ck-with-me pose, and both boys recognized it instantly. Dean half stood up, doing his normal job of trying to get in between Dad and Sam, but John turned his head and glared at Dean until he slid back down to the seat, landing with a quiet _thump_. Dean was trained right. John turned his considerable bulk to his youngest, wiry son. Sam had set his face, having seen that Dean wouldn't be coming to his defense this time.

"Let me see if I got this right. You want to go away to Stanford."

Surprise flickered across Sam's face. _Give me some credit, son._

"Dad, I graduated high school in June. With great grades! I applied last fall and was accepted into Stanford, and they even gave me a full ride." Sam's arms flailed around, trying to get across to his parental unit how important he felt this to be. The duffle swung dangerously close to the lamp.

"A _full ride_ Dad! That means you don't have to pay for anything! See, I can afford this. I'll get a job for the extras. A regular job."

John's face never changed, and Sam was getting desperate. Sam sidled closer, throwing out an arm to encompass their run-down rental house. "I don't want this life! Hunting, and killing, and burning?!" He thumped his chest. "I want MORE. I want to be a lawyer. I want NORMAL."

John heard, _Sam's leaving, and I can't protect him. Keep him safe._ But to talk about feelings or to keep them safe? They were more than the typical teenagers. Well, Dean was 22, which meant he thought he was a grown man. They didn't talk about where it hurt, either physical or emotional. God knows, nothing emotional. Sam was skimming on thin ice as it was. "No, Sam." _I have to keep you close._

Sam gaped at John, before setting his face into classic stubborn bitch. _The same face Mary would give me when she gave me a piece of her mind._ "In case you forgot, I'm over 18. You can't tell me 'no' anymore." Sam gave him his ultimatum in a low voice.

"I can if you're in my house!" John growled low back at Sam, narrowing his eyes at his youngest. Sam's head jerked back, as he groped the duffle up, almost dropping it, then settling it over his left shoulder.

"But Dad! It's a _full ride_!" _As if I didn't know what that was. Money isn't the issue, Sam. I have to keep you safe from that Yellow-Eyed Demon._

Seeing his Dad not moving, Sam almost flew into a rage. "I'll be normal! I'll be a lawyer!"

"I said no, Sam." John was tired of this. It was closed, it was over. Sam should know his place in the family. He was getting to be a fine hunter, an amazing researcher, an astounding backup.

Sam pulled his arm back to hit him, as Dean jumped up. John threw up an arm towards Dean to signal him to stay down as he faced Sam. Sam wavered, holding his arm cocked back, debating if he wanted to feel the beat down Dad would give him if he did throw the punch. John let Sam think it over, seeing exactly what was going on in his son's eyes. Sam pulled himself together, nodding to himself, making up his mind.

"You can't stop me."

John watched Sam set his face, before turning to the door. Then he gave his youngest his ultimatum.

"You walk out that door, don't you ever come back."

Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the whiskey, but whatever it was John gambled Sam wouldn't want to cut himself out of the family. Family meant something to Winchesters, and Sam had that same loyalty. Sam turned white, turning back towards Dad. John headed for his own bag in his room, looking for some clean clothes for the shower, argument won. Sam was kept safe. Silence reigned.

"I just want - " Sam stuttered, came to a stop, eyes wide on Dad first, then flew towards Dean. Dean was still sitting at the kitchen table so John didn't know what passed between the brothers, but when Sam turned back to Dad, John's heart sank. He stood at his bedroom door, looking at his youngest son. His baby. John only wanted to keep him safe, but Sam would never understand.

"I'm going." Resolved firmed, Sam strode quickly to the front door and yanked it open, almost as if he was afraid he'd be stopped. He had only a slight pause before stepping out into the August night and letting the door slam shut behind him.

 _No, Sammy. No. No. No. No._ John refused to look after Sam. He was furious with himself, that he couldn't keep his son safe anymore. He lost him, and all John wanted to do was collapse. He finished gathering his clean clothes and headed for the shower.

Dean stepped in front of John, blocking him. "Dad! Go after him!"

John shook his head. "He made his choice Dean." John grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him in slightly to make his point clear. "And you're not going after him either. You hear?"

Dean gave him a look of rebelliousness. One in which John had not seen except in small bursts when it came to school, girls, or inconsequential teen stuff. Nothing dealing with their family. Dean looked away, visibly deflating.

"Yes, sir."

John turned him loose and headed for the shower. Life went on. Turning on the hot water to warm up while he stripped, John stepped into the shower. Letting the hot water run over his head and down his face, rubbing his face vigorously.

So he could pretend he wasn't crying.

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 **A/N1** \- RL has slammed me for 11 months, and will continue to slam me for at least the next 8 months. So as much as I love writing - and I do want to finish Adam's Story - I can't get to this anytime soon. The reason I fought so hard to even post this snippet was because I wanted to give a birthday present to myself, so Happy (Belated) Birthday to Me.

 **A/N2** \- I cannot say how much it means for reviews and comments. Author's lifeblood. I have been VERY bad about responding, which I know that means people won't comment as much. My fault. RL. But I am asking for comments/reviews. Thank you.

 **A/N2** \- This was written on a tag from Freya and CornishGirl, to write a fic from John's POV when Sam left for college.


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